


Into the water, let it pull him under

by mahkent



Series: Bottom of the river [1]
Category: God of War
Genre: Drowning, Gen, ptsd-related hallucinations, unintentional child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahkent/pseuds/mahkent
Summary: Atreus wakes with his father's hand around his throat, dragging him out of his bed and across the threshold.





	Into the water, let it pull him under

Atreus wakes with his father's hand around his throat, dragging him out of his bed and across the threshold. As he looks up he sees only the thick muscles of father's arms, the ceiling and sky rolling past. 

"Father--" he cries, hands scrabbling at the fingers around his neck, but he isn't strong enough to do anything but hurt his own fingers. His father doesn't look down, doesn't stop, not even as Atreus cries out from the already forming bruises burning on his neck, not even as Atreus kicks and wails more than he ever thought he would. 

"Σιωπή, αποτυχία." The language is foreign and harsh to Atreus' ears. He can only assume it's his father's native tongue, but-- the blood rushing through his ears just manages to muffle and confuse the syllables. He can feel the ground beneath his back.

They travel for what feels like ages, but must have only been a few minutes, until they stop next to a river. Atreus' is cold, barefoot and wearing only a tunic and pants, but his blood freezes at the sight of his father's face. Blank and impassive, yet his eyes burn with a rage unlike any Atreus' has ever seen. Any pleas only seem to make the fire deeper, stoking it further and further and- Atreus is scared. Terrified, hands sliding off his father's as tears boil in his eyes, as his father kneels by the river.

"Αντιμετωπίστε τη δοκιμασία των θεών και θα σας αποζημιώσουν." The tone only conveys cold conviction, dull disappointment. His father's other hand grasps his shoulder hard enough that he can feel something crack under the pressure. The noise of blood in his ears is replaced by the churning current.

"Για τον Δία, κυρία του ουρανού." Atreus doesn't think his father is within his own head. The blank eyes, the complete disregard for normal language, the harsh grip around Atreus' neck that doesn't ever get any weaker. The fact that the babbling pleas from his sons lips don't get any reaction beyond disdain.

The grip on his shoulder and neck loosen just enough that he can breathe fully. He looks up at the blazing eyes once more, mouth forming around another plea, and-

Into the water he is thrust, head and shoulders and back soaked by the rushing current of the river. The breath is stolen from his lungs- weak from years of sickness, he can barely breathe on days when it is too cold, much less when the freezing water grips his chest with the strength of Thor himself. It's as if he was thrown into Niflheim, the agonizing screams of the dead clawing at his soul- 

He sputters as his father pulls him up, choking on the air that feels too warm compared to what he's spitting up. Still, father just stares and slowly loosens the grip on Atreus' neck to allow him to get some air. 

"Fff- fath-" The pathetic attempt at speech is halted by father thrusting him down into the water again. He hears speech, something longer and more like a chant, for a split second before the water fills his ears again and he's forced into the limited world of the river. Gravel scrapes the back of his head as he writhes, pleading to anyone who may be listening - Freya, Tyr, even Odin - to help him. He feels blood swirling away from the back of his head where it struck stone.

He's scared. It's not often that he'll admit that, especially not around his father, but he's terrified. The sight of his father so apathetic to the fact that he's forcing Atreus to drown, again and again, is gut-wrenching enough that he feels hot tears in his eyes again and feels them torn away by freezing currents. He really isn't sure how many times the cycle is repeated. He knows for a fact that he becomes more desperate every time he can't breathe, every time he can breathe but only through the thick coating of water in his lungs. 

Blessedly, he's brought back up one more time, and the hands around his neck and shoulder release too suddenly. The jarring thud of his shoulder blades against the ground halt his breathing long enough for him to be able to focus on something else, namely his current status.

He's too cold to discover anything he didn't already know. The bone-biting frost of the river has most of his brain power- it _hurts_. Sickness having him in its vice grip for so long, he understands how fever heat can hurt, but he supposes he never really knew the truly agonizing pain of cold so harsh it almost burns. His neck aches, and emotionally he's reeling. Why would father attack him? Did he do something wrong? Is he going to be put under again?

A strong hand on his good shoulder brings him back with a flinch. His father stares down at him, eyes filled with confusion and concern, but all Atreus can see is the image of the cold person who isn't father and he cries out as well as he can. Admittedly, it's weak and gurgling through the water still pooling in the back of his throat; his father seems to get the idea. The touch hovers lightly, like a timid bird, then draws back entirely. 

"Atreus." The voice he hears doesn't sound like father. It's soft, too gentle and... worried? All Atreus can do to respond is moan, trying to push himself away with unresponding legs. His arms won't work- nor will his tongue. Out of the water, his body warms enough that he can feel himself shivering. Convulsing, almost, teeth chattering so hard it aches. 

" _Atreus_." Insistent, more concerned. The tone has Atreus' cringing and whining. But- father wants hin to answer. He has to, right? Is it still father behind those warm amber eyes? The numbness in his lips tells him he can't answer. 

Still, he tries. His eyes flick over his father- the hovering hands, fingers curling as he forces himself to refrain from touching his son- and over to the house. Mimir is there; he must have heard. But what can a head do?

"Fff- fath-ther." The stutter in his voice is prominent in the silence of the forest, hidden only by the burble of the stream. It isn't as loud once he's not in it. 

"I-" For once, his father halts, unable to form a sentence. Atreus pushes himself into a sitting position shakily. His muscles ache from struggling, his skin is freezing like he'd died, but all he can think about is the sensation of his father drowning him. The feeling of his breath being torn away while those thick fingers that used to gently rub his back when he was sick wrapped like chains around his throat, the foreign words that he still can't puzzle out. 

"I am sorry." Father finally settles on. His eyes fall to the ground, just beside Atreus' heaving chest. Atreus can sense the guilt, the confusion, but why is father confused? Didn't he just do all of... all of that? 

" _Why_?" Atreus rasps, voice weak and shaking. Father can't seem to form an answer, again, and remains silent for a few seconds.

"I do not know." And that's the end of the conversation. Atreus can see his father shut his mouth with conviction, see those arms reaching to lift him like he's a little child again- and he decides, suddenly, to stay still. Maybe if he's obedient and quiet he won't be hurt again. 

The walk back to the house is short. His father's chest is warm against Atreus', almost too hot, and he can't help but stay just a little too stiff in the hold. Water still rumbles in his chest, and he knows father realizes this. Father sets him on his bed- the furs that usually rest on it lay halfway across the floor from how he was dragged out. Mimir stares with his odd, glowing eye, and only speaks once Kratos leaves to get some more firewood. 

"What happened, little brother?" The thick brogue is comforting, compared to his father's harsh, alien language. Atreus sits up slowly, pressing his back against the wall by his bed. 

"F-father-" his teeth chatter, and he wraps his arms loosely around himself- "was... not himself." It's an understatement, to be certain. Atreus isn't sure what happened to father. Possession? A sudden switch in personality? He watches as Mimir ponders, brows furrowed and eye still unblinking.

Atreus knows Mimir is called Mimir the wise for a reason. The look on Mimir's face of concern and agitation tells him that Mimir knows what happened- and how could he not? The pleading, muffled only when Atreus was under the water, made it clear to anyone within earshot. 

Mimir speaks again, after a few minutes of thought. "Is he himself now?" The head seems subdued for once. Atreus unsure reaction, eyes flicking down to his still burning fingers- that weird cold-burn, as if his nerves are on fire with the cold rage of his not-himself father- and posture curling inward. 

They both fall silent as father enters. Mimir's gaze turns to Kratos, eye narrowed in suspicion. Kratos doesn't move but to set down the firewood and begin stoking the flames. 

"Boy. Sit by the fire." That weird tongue still tinges his father's voice. Atreus hesitates for a few moments before standing, legs almost giving out, lungs tightening at the sudden movement. The prospect of not being able to breathe only has him panicking more, but he manages to shut it down- by looking at Mimir, who's the only relatively normal person in the room to Atreus now- and stepping towards the fire, and his father, timidly. He sits slowly, close enough to feel the fire but not close at all to his father.

Mimir pipes up again. He's resting on the table, eye still narrowed in suspicion. "I'm afraid I haven't the slightest as to what happened, Kratos." The usage of Kratos' name seems intentional, to Atreus; 'brother' is what he's come to expect, but... things have changed. The tension is so thick that Atreus thinks he could cut it with his knife, if he weren't shivering so hard.

Kratos stands slowly. Atreus doesn't turn his head for fear of attracting his attention again. He does hear shuffling of furs, and flinches when the heavy blanket is laid over his shoulders. The one that Kratos grabbed still aches.

"In my home, soldiers would act irrational after battle. Afraid. Paranoid." His father's voice is low and quiet. The utter silence of the house, only broken by the few words spoken thus far, makes Atreus all the more nervous. 

"What did you see?" Mimir, evidently, knows about this subject. Atreus finally turns to look at them both. Mimir's expression hasn't changed, while the strength, the power seems to have drained from his father.

"An enemy child in need of training."

"Tr- training?" Atreus speaks, voice cracking. His fingers have stopped tingling, but the touch of cold water has yet to leave his lungs. He doesn't think he'll ever forget it.

"A tactic to induce... obedience, was to drown the child repeatedly. If they survived, they were worthy for our armies; if they did not, they were dead and sent to the underworld." Usually, Kratos doesn't mention much about his past. Now seems to be different- he can see the unwillingness in his father's posture, as weak as it is right now, but he can also see the fear. 

"And you decided to do it to your _son_?"

Atreus whimpers when their attention falls to him. Shudders wrack his body, even with the fur and the fire, something he wants so badly to stop but is still too weak to. The silence stretches out too long, leading Atreus to wrap the furs tighter around himself in an attempt to comfort himself.

"I did not decide to. It seemed-" another halt, another too-long pause. "As if I had to do it." 

"And now he's half drowned! Think, man!" The head cries. Kratos frowns, then stands. Atreus can't help but follow his father's path with his eyes. His posture has yet to recoup from the shame, the guilt- for some reason, Atreus doesn't mind. He still can't get the sensation of not being able breathe out of his mind. It was so much different from when the sickness gripped him and he coughed until he felt lightheaded- the water pulled him under, and he drowned alive, unable to breathe even if he tried. Water burning in his nose, soaking his lungs, his skin stinging from the battering of the water- it was so different from anything he'd ever experienced before. 

His father only stares at Mimir, then at Atreus, amber eyes betraying his pain. Atreus is sure his eyes do, as well; every so often he has to blink away tears. It's difficult to tell whether they're from pain or from fear. Eventually, after what feels like ages, the uncomfortable silence is broken. 

"I am going to hunt. I will be back." His father says, in that gruff voice that has just now returned to normal. Those sad, sad eyes are turned to Atreus for a few beats longer, searching for some sort of positive response. Atreus simply nods meekly. 

Kratos leaves, and Atreus sits silent as Mimir stares with his twinkling eye.

**Author's Note:**

> google translated Greek:  
> "Silence, weakling."  
> "Withstand the test of the gods and they will spare you."  
> "To Zeus, lord of the skies."


End file.
